


Certain Dark Things

by crazyparakiss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Implied Mpreg, M/M, PWP without Porn, Pregnancy Kink, Sibling Incest, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-14 00:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18041672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyparakiss/pseuds/crazyparakiss
Summary: I love you ascertain dark thingsare to be loved,in secret,between the shadowand the soul.-Pablo Neruda





	Certain Dark Things

**Author's Note:**

> Short, angsty, open-ended. It was not what I planned to write, but here we are haha 
> 
> The poem isn't mine, the characters aren't mine, I don't even own my car or house yet.

_ I love you as  _

_ certain dark things  _

_ are to be loved, _

_ in secret,  _

_ between the shadow _

_ and the soul. _

 

_ -Pablo Neruda  _

  
  
  
  


The opulent manor house in Old Windsor sparkles like something out of a fairytale. Every window glowing with golden light from the party. It appears so warm. But not even the chill of late winter can compel Regulus to return inside. 

  
Not when Sirius’s hot palm closes around his aching cock and his brother’s teeth press into the flesh of his neck. Branding him with marks that will linger for weeks. Burrowing his long fingers into Sirius’s hair, Regulus begs, “More.” A gasp escapes him—needy—as he grinds into Sirius’s hand. “Harder, Sirius,” he keens. 

 

“Patience,” Sirius sounds as composed as ever. “They’ve just begun dancing...we’ve hours yet.” 

 

_ But it’s been weeks,  _ he thinks. However, doesn’t voice those words as Sirius’s tongue plunders his mouth. Fingers roam his body. Soft, talented touches that play him with an expertise that Regulus never wants to dwell upon. Doesn’t want to think about the others those fingers have learned. 

 

“I want you to come in me,” he moans. They break apart with gasping breaths and  Regulus claws at Sirius’s skin—begging. “Please, Sirius, fill me.” 

 

*

 

When they return to the celebration, Sirius leaves him. Gone to where Father stands—playing at dutiful son. Regulus watches him go with a heavy heart. Sirius’s come still drips from his body—flaking against his skin. It should be unpleasant, but the sensation causes him to grow warm. 

 

Father is making an announcement. That’s the purpose of this affair. An engagement that causes Regulus to ache down to his core. Sirius with  _ another _ . His hands on skin that isn’t Regulus’s turns Regulus sick with hate. 

 

“It is a great honour to welcome Antonia into our family,” Father says. Smiling at the perfect Omega bride Mother was tasked with finding for the beloved firstborn. Their heir. Their Alpha.  

 

His stomach squirms at the sight of Antonia. She’s everything Regulus isn’t. Beautiful, charming,  _ fertile.  _ Regulus places a hand on the concealed skin of his abdomen, closes his eyes, and begs God to give him what he wants. 

 

A child. 

 

The seed of his brother taking root in his womb. 

 

To stand where Antonia is standing. At Sirius’s side, being congratulated by the members of their private, privileged world. 

 

_ An heir. An heir. An heir.  _

 

His internal mantra as he stares at Sirius’s perfect, full mouth. The one that is curved with an enduring grin. Regulus wants to eat that smile, to devour it off of Sirius’s face until his lips are raw. He despises the fakery Sirius has to suffer and Regulus desires to be his sanctuary. The place where Sirius can be all that he truly is. 

 

Their eyes meet, grey on grey—like this limbo of longing, and Regulus licks his lip. Sirius’s eyes narrow, watching the movement with intense scrutiny. Regulus grins, trying for playful as he mouths  _ meet me in the abandoned school room.  _

 

*

 

The stairs up to the attic are rickety and speak of neglect, but Regulus takes them with the confidence that they will carry him up to the hidden, beautiful world he shares with Sirius. 

 

Their school room is the same as it was in youth. When they were sent away with whatever tutor Mother and Father saw fit to employ. The only difference is that, now, the room is full of dust. Undisturbed carpets of it that Regulus leaves footprints in as he moves towards the small desks. His finger draws lazy loops on one—Sirius’s old desk—writing  _ forever my love. _

 

“Are you planning to leave me?” Sirius’s voice is a sudden, sharp sound in the still room. Right against Regulus’s ear, causing him to jump from the shock of it. 

 

Sirius catches hold of him. Soothing Regulus as he whispers Latin prayers into Regulus’s hair. When his heart slows to a normal rhythm, Regulus finally answers Sirius’s question. “How could I leave you?” Sirius has an unreadable expression on his face. Regulus wants to break into him—to read Sirius’s soul, his desires, his everything. “You’re in me too deeply to leave.” 

 

“Why are you crying?” Sirius’s voice grows gentle, consoling as his warm hands cup Regulus’s face. Holding him like a delicate shell that will break easily. 

 

“It’s unfair,” Regulus whispers in reply. “Why does it have to be her?” 

 

Sirius closes his eyes, resting his forehead against Regulus’s, breathing deep. “You know why.” He says, at last, when minutes have passed in a tense silence. “Father, Mother, and society would never allow it.” 

 

“Since when have you cared?” Regulus spits as he tears himself away from Sirius. “You’ve never given a damn for society.” 

 

The unreadable expression is back, and Regulus hates that his brother—his lover—is so calm in the face of his anguish. “I love you, Regulus.” Is what Sirius says, into the stillness of the attic. “More than I care to love anyone else, and it makes me cautious.” His fingers lift, as if to reach for Regulus, but then he aborts that decision and lets his hand fall back to his side. “I don’t want to damn you. Not to God, not to our parents, not to the vile, wagging tongues of these gossips we know.” 

 

For once, Sirius appears wretched—as if the words are forced from someplace deep, someplace fragile, someplace no one had ever seen. 

 

“Do you love me?” Regulus asks. Approaching with slow, measured steps. 

 

“More than anything,” Sirius’s response is immediate. Desperate. 

 

“Then fuck me,” Regulus commands. His lips catching over Sirius’s smooth cheek as he whispers, “Fuck me full of your heir.” 

 

“They will call me a rapist, an incestuous and corrupt evil who lured you to damnation.” Sirius’s tells him, but it’s not a ‘ _ no _ ’ Regulus notices. 

 

“Damn me, then, Sirius. I’ll tell Mother it was me. I’ll tell Father I put myself before you like a panting whore.” He never tells Sirius he’s been trying for this since they first began their lustful dance. Never confesses to disposing of the potions Sirius purchases to keep their secret hidden—safe. 

 

Sirius kisses him. Hands diving under the expensive cotton of Regulus’s shirt. Fingers stroking against his sensitive skin with intention as Sirius gasps, against Regulus’s wet mouth, “I’m going to fuck you until you’re pregnant.” 

 

“I hope that’s a promise,” Regulus replies—untying his trousers and letting them fall to his ankles. The come Sirius left in him—hours before—flakes and chafes as he moves, but Regulus doesn’t care. Not when his body thrills at Sirius’s touch. Exciting him with the prospect of being more to Sirius than that woman can ever be. 

 

*

 

No seed takes. Try as they might, Regulus’s womb remains achingly empty. 

 

He tries everything he can think of. 

 

Remains on his hands and knees with Sirius in him—until he’s so soft he slips from Regulus’s body. 

 

Yet, his womb doesn’t quicken with life. He feels no movement in him as the months go by, and still, his heat is absent. 

 

“Perhaps, I am cursed.” He cries, as Sirius fucks into him with a savage grace that only Sirius possesses. “Barren and unable to bind you to me.” 

 

Nails dig into his hips and Regulus feels the hot flood of Sirius’s seed within him. A growl leaves Sirius’s throat. “I will make you pregnant, Regulus. I will.” 

 

Regulus believes it to be hopeless. Yet, he never says this as he draws Sirius to him. Licking into his mouth—trying to commit his taste to memory. 

 

_Three months._ _Three months and he will no longer be mine._

 

The thoughts fill him with dread. Horror at the notion that other hands will touch Sirius, other nails will drag scratches into his back. Regulus wants to scream. Wants to summon any devil that will do business with him and beg them for the heir he covets. 

 

“I love you,” he whispers—against Sirius’s neck when the night grows darker. While all of London is aglow with yellow lights that burn in Muggle street lamps. Sirius is wrapped around him, sleeping without worry for their future. So self-assured in his belief that they will create the child they need to stay together. 

 

Regulus no longer believes, all he wants now is to enjoy these days before they are done. 

 

“Your doubts are loud,” Sirius replies with a yawn. Rolling over, late in the night, to draw Regulus nearer to him. Warming him with his skin and words. “I will make all your dreams come true.” 

 

_ Well packaged lies, that’s what he gifts me,  _ Regulus thinks. Even still he loves the lies. 

 

Their love is rooted in deceptions, after all. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
